


A Throne to Claim

by PreseaMoon



Series: child emperor hakuryuu [1]
Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-03-18 17:07:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3577275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PreseaMoon/pseuds/PreseaMoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Hakuryuu becomes emperor at age six.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to Athina for... assisting me as this au took shape. And for the continued assistance I will seek! You are great.
> 
> This work is basically: Kouen and Hakuryuu have a good relationship. Because that is what I long for.

With the deaths of Emperor Hakutoku and two crown princes in such quick succession, the new emperor’s coronation is a quick, small affair with only family, the imperial priests, the generals Ri Seiryuu and Shuu Kokuhyou, and a few other trusted retainers in attendance, which is for the best. 

After all, it is not as though their new emperor is in optimal condition for guests. Bandages are on display around his head and neck where they cannot be hidden by his ceremonial robes. He’s paler than he should be, and it draws attention to the heavy bags under his eyes that emphasize his youth.

Honestly, it's too soon for this. He’s been awake for little more than a week and can barely walk. They should wait for the bandages to come off, for some trace of light to return to his eyes, for him to fully process that his family is gone and their responsibilities are now his to burden. But the succession has already been put off as long as possible, and waiting is no longer option. If there is any further delay, then Koutoku will be taking the throne instead, which is absurd for numerous reasons. The first and foremost reason being that the throne is rightfully Hakuryuu’s, no matter his age.

Kouen’s feelings on his father are mixed, but there is one thing he is certain of: Ren Koutoku is not a capable leader. If this country is placed in his clumsy hands, he will have no idea what to do with it. More accurately, he will have no idea how to progress effectively in any direction. This has been made apparent in various councils where he’s not only displayed a bullish desire for conquest, but also a complete lack of strategy to go along with it. He seems to think power is all that’s necessary to succeed, and that power and a crown are one in the same. He is not the sort of man who should be in charge of a still budding country, or any country at all.

Hakuryuu is a small child, but he will learn. Not only that, but he has the blood of a great emperor flowing through him and the shadow of his brothers’ influence at his back. The potential to be a remarkable leader is already within him. All they must do is nurture it. 

The only issue is that until he is old enough and able to rule properly—years from now—Gyokuen will be the one primarily driving this country forward. To Kouen’s memory, Gyokuen has never made herself out to be more than a dutiful queen and loving mother. She’s never sat in on councils, and at court she’s never weighed in on serious issues. But even if she ends up utterly clueless, for the interim she is better than Koutoku. Stagnancy is preferable to entropy.

The second emperor of the Kou Empire sits on the enormous throne made even more enormous by his miniscule size, and stares out at them—his subjects—with a single empty eye. The amount of ornamentation on his robes coupled with the miniature crown that’s been fashioned for him makes Hakuryuu resemble a doll. With the way he sits very still, without a single wrinkle in his robes or ripple in the beads hanging from his crown, he could easily be mistaken for one. 

Beside him sits Judar, who kicks his feet and refuses to sit still. Apparently oblivious to where he is and what’s happening. No one wants to risk removing him without Hakuryuu’s implicit say so. At least the young magi is not being an active nuisance for once, though he does not appear to completely grasp the gravity of recent events. Since Hakuryuu woke up he’s refused to be anywhere else, but that has more to do with being deprived of Hakuryuu’s company for nearly two entire months than anything else.

Next to throne, another, smaller spot, though of similar grandeur to the throne, has been arranged for Gyokuen, now queen regent. Her robes are styled a mix of funeral and celebratory. She keeps her gaze on Hakuryuu as those in attendance approach one by one to bow before the new emperor. First Koutoku, then Hakuei, then Kouen and so on through the family and retainers in attendance from there. 

Of them, only Hakuei is acknowledged with something more than a blink. For her, Hakuryuu’s gaze slips away like he’s been caught doing something shameful. Stealing the throne, disgracing the family. This is anything but. If given the chance, Kouen will make that unmistakable.

Once everyone has approached him, all that remains is for Hakuryuu to address the people as emperor for the first time.

Gyokuen picks Hakuryuu up and settles him at her hip. Aside from their appearances, it is a sight so familiar it nears comforting. Only, Hakuryuu does not cling to her as he once did. Instead he sits still, allowing his arms to dangle uselessly at his sides. Unsmiling, he neither leans in to nor pulls away from the reassurance his mother’s arms should provide. 

They walk out on to the balcony to address the crowd that immediately cheers upon seeing them. 

Like this, with a tiny emperor who won’t rule for years, the Kou Empire begins to move forward.


	2. Chapter 2

Approximately two weeks after Hakuryuu’s coronation, Ren Koutoku is imprisoned as a suspect in the assassinations of Emperor Hakutoku and princes Hakuyuu and Hakuren, as well for conspiring to assassinate Emperor Hakuryuu. The only thing unbelievable about this is the notion that Koutoku succeeded in any capacity.

For as long as Kouen can remember, his father has been content to hide behind exaggerated illness while reaping the benefits of others. This is the same but with a different face. While his father has been resentful for some time now, he is not smart enough to concoct an assassination plot, nor is he clever enough to manipulate others to achieve his ends. He is not even someone a more capable assassin could take advantage of, because empty words are all he has to offer.

There are two primary scenarios Kouen can think of. The first is that Koutoku was completely uninvolved but is viewed as an inevitable threat to Hakuryuu’s reign, so they’re doing away with him before those sparks can catch. The other is that Koutoku was involved, and his accomplices, who now roam the palace or city, have pinned everything on him since he’s a liability, not an asset, and the sooner investigation ends the better.

Kouen doesn’t have enough evidence, circumstantial or otherwise, to buy into either one of those possibilities. There’s too much he doesn’t know, and he can’t claim his father’s desire to rule means he might have had a hand in what happened. For not the first time, Kouen wonders what all transpired the months he was away, and though arrogant to presume, he wonders if his being here would have made any difference.

The only people who might actually know anything are either dead or inaccessible. The one time he saw Hakuei prior to his father’s imprisonment he was not thoughtless enough to ask her about her brothers. Now, with his father suspected of treason he’s not allowed to see her, as if his blood has been proven guilty enough with suspicion alone.

In the weeks following Koutoku’s incarceration, Kouen dedicates his time to looking into their history from before the Empire formed.

The youngest emperor Kouen can find record of is a firstborn son who took the throne at age eleven after his father died of an unknown illness. Treason wasn’t something that had to be dealt with in the meantime, and within three years he was ruling entirely on his own.

A century and a half is how long it’s been since an entire branch of the Ren family was done away with. Treason was the cause, of course. Except unlike now, the case was far more straightforward and the emperor was an adult.

Past gives certainty to the future. Events find a way of repeating over time, no matter how many years are required, creating a distinct pattern. There may be different causes, and the story is different depending on who tells it and which side wins, but humans are motivated by simple things, and that shows in every account. 

Hakuryuu’s circumstance is taking the new course they’ve been set on and twisting it. The formation of the empire, his age and status, the presence and relevance of magicians, individually these deviances shouldn’t mean much, but when they connect like this the present becomes an anomaly. The future loses its predictability.

Someday in the distant future he’ll be able to look back on all these occurrences and find the outcomes obvious. The pieces will line up and put themselves together, and he’ll regret not having had the knowledge sooner. But for now he’s in the dark, and their history doesn’t hint at what the future may hold for Kouen and his siblings, for Hakuryuu, or for the Empire as a whole.

With nothing to do but wait, he stays up late into the night, frequently until the sun rises. Despite the uncertainty of his future, Kouen continues to study in the hopes he’ll find he missed something significant that will light the way forward.

On one of these nights where Koumei sits in with him he’s asked, “Do you think we’ll be executed?” He’s neither concerned nor resigned. Just curious to know what Kouen honestly thinks will become of them.

To say he doesn’t know is an unsatisfactory answer, but it also indicates their deaths aren’t guaranteed yet. If they were going to be executed, they wouldn’t be allowed this much freedom. Koumei wouldn’t have learned of the state of things through Kouen, but by being brought to an isolated part of the palace, and Kouen—along with his household—likely would be thrown in a cell like their father. His metal vessels would have been confiscated.

“It’s hard to say, but I don’t think so.”

“With things like this, who even gets to decide?”

“The queen regent decides with a council what to do. The emperor gets a say, of course, but… in order to do that he has to know what’s going on.”

“You think he doesn’t know?”

Since he was crowned, Hakuryuu has not been seen. Presumably he’s been recuperating from his injuries as he should be, but not even Hakuei had seen him when Kouen spoke to her last.

Kouen doesn’t think Hakuryuu is being confined anywhere, and he does need rest, but it’s a perfect excuse to keep him in the dark. Not that there’s reason to think they are, but running complicated matters by a six year old can’t be the easiest thing. Asking a child to condemn what remains of his family to death is a bit much as well, but they don’t really have a choice.

“If he doesn’t know he will eventually. They can’t go through with something like that without telling him first, and if he disagrees it won’t happen.” 

A pause, and then Koumei says, “Do you think he will? I mean, it’s not like he knows us, and if they convince him it’s for the best, why would he do anything to stop it?”

“I don’t know.” Kouen intends to follow that up with something inspiring, but he realizes at the last second there’s nothing to say that doesn’t sound like an empty promise.

“I don’t want to die yet, En.”

Kouen turns away from the scroll he hasn’t been reading since his brother entered the room. “We’ll figure something out,” he swears.

Even if they are sentenced to death there are options. The most effective plans require leaving Kouha and their sisters behind, which is… unfortunate but necessary for their prolonged survival in the worst-case scenario. Kouha is seven and several of their sisters, some of whom they’ve never met, aren’t even teenagers yet. Not to mention the smaller the group is the higher the chances of survival are.

To consider their options so early is somewhat fatalistic, but it’s better to be prepared than get caught unawares.

Koumei looks at him doubtfully, and then finally collapses to his side with a sigh. He drags the blankets around him.

“What are you doing.”

“Since you obviously aren’t going to make use of your bed tonight, I will.”

“I’m going to sleep eventually.”

“No are you aren’t.”

“Yes I am.”

“You aren’t.”

Not in the mood for arguing over this, Kouen sighs. “Fine. Do what you want.”

“See?”

Instead of engaging, Kouen returns to his scroll but is still unable to focus on the words.

The days and weeks drag on until an entire month has passed without any decision to whether Koutoku is guilty or not.

Kouen can’t sleep. When his eyes tire of reading and the characters become incomprehensible he lies in bed cycling through the possibilities, repeating them in hopes one will suddenly become the obvious answer.

If his father were involved, he would give up whatever he knew of his accomplices while trying to strike a deal. Only, lenience isn’t given for treason and Koutoku knows that. Whatever he tried to holdback would be extracted from him within days. The execution would already be over with.

If his father were uninvolved, then why are they waiting so long to do anything? Sure he can’t speak out from in prison, and it’s not as if anyone is advocating for him, but it’d be best to get it over with.

It’s possible that Hakuryuu is holding them back, but if they’re telling him Koutoku is the reason his father and brothers are dead, Kouen can’t see him being hesitant to go along with their ideas. Perhaps they want to kill the entire family together, and that’s why it’s taking so long.

It’s immensely stressful. Not helping matters is the way he’s given wide berth in the halls as if his own death sentence is looming just overhead. The longer this goes on the more rumors spread, eventually mutating into absurd tales spouted as fact, even when they conflict. He’s already heard that his absence was calculated and his current silence is a ploy to gain sympathy so his fate won’t be the same as his father’s. The basis and origin of these rumors are elusive, but he has no real desire to look further into them anyway.

It is a situation where every action he takes will be perceived negatively, so it’s best to sit back and wait for everything to die down. Assuming it ever will. These sorts of things can have surprisingly long term consequences.

During one of the many nights where he lies in bed burnt out by thinking, his focus is broken by the door being slid open in a mockery of stealth. Despite how obvious it is that no one has arrived to kill him, his heart races and he unconsciously positions his body to attack whoever approaches.

Something about the mix of anxiety and sleep deprivation makes him miss that the patter of feet is far too light to be an adult’s, so he’s at a bit of a loss when Judar appears next to him, smiling like there’s nothing wrong with invading a prince’s room in the middle of the night. This isn’t actually unusual for Judar, although it has been a while since the last time he saw fit to disturb what should be Kouen’s sleeping hours.

Kouen pushes himself up on one elbow and rubs his face, holding back a groan as Judar chatters something with too high a pitch for so late into the night. “Judar, what are you—”

Judar talks over him, saying, “I told you he’d be awake,” with a satisfied grin and a rather victorious pose.

Through his exhaustion, Kouen processes this slowly. “What…” And then he realizes Judar isn’t talking to him, isn’t looking at him, and following his gaze wakes Kouen up more than an assassin would. “Your Majesty.” He sits up but then does nothing more despite intending to. 

Kouen isn’t sure if there’s an etiquette that dictates how to behave when your child emperor shows up at your bedside like this. 

He looks back and forth between Hakuryuu and Judar, their faces impassive and beaming respectively. Finally he sighs. “Judar, what’s the meaning of this?”

Judar puffs his cheek the way he does whenever he thinks someone is being unfair towards him. “It was Hakuryuu’s idea,” he insists. That seems to remind him that he’s not just saying so. He leans over onto Kouen’s bed, saying, “Hakuryuu wants to talk to you.”

Confused, Kouen automatically looks to Hakuryuu, who shrinks under his gaze and looks away.

Judar leans further in, says, “Hakuryuu’s not so talkative right now, but he really wants to talk to you, Kouen.”

Judar climbs onto the bed and helps pull Hakuryuu up too. Once settled, Judar sits quietly, watching Hakuryuu and waiting for him to speak.

This is the first time Kouen’s seen him without the bandages. The red-pink wound covering nearly half his face is jarring. So is the discolored eye it covers. He tries not to stare, to not so much as glance at the scarring, but it’s as if it attracts all the moon’s light.

Hakuryuu stares at the space just in front of Kouen, and it’s apparent he wants to say something. His throat moves and he swallows and swallows and his fingers clench and unclench in the sheet, yet minutes pass and not a single syllable is spoken. He sits up straighter, gathering courage, but when he raises his head to look at Kouen, his shoulders hunch and his head drops.

Eventually he moves to Judar’s side, leaning on him, and with his hand held up to shield his face he whispers.

“Hakuryuu says that his brother said he could trust you.”

Kouen frowns, not knowing what exactly that might mean.

“He doesn’t remember a lot of the fire, but he remembers Yuu saying he could go to you if he needed anything. Yuu said you would help him.”

Kouen’s not certain how to take this. He can feel his chest tighten, his eyes sting. Maybe it’s because he’s sleep deprived, or maybe it’s because for the first time in weeks the future doesn’t feel so bleak, or perhaps it’s just guilt. Whatever the case, he wishes Hakuryuu would look at him.

“Do you need help?” he asks softly, though he has no idea what he could possibly help with.

“He doesn’t know because he can’t remember. Maybe you can help him remember?”

“What about the doctors and the imperial priests? Isn’t that something they can help with?”

“They don’t want to. They said it’s better if Hakuryuu doesn’t remember, but he wants to and they don’t listen. I’d do it, but I don’t know how.”

“Your Majesty, I am sorry, but I do not know how to help you.”

“That’s okay. Hakuryuu still wants to talk to you.”

“Of course, but what about?”

Hakuryuu takes a moment to glance at him, and then returns to hiding his face. “Anything is fine. Hakuyuu said you were trustworthy, but Hakuryuu doesn’t really know you.”

Hakuryuu sits back and stays facing Judar.

Kouen looks at them, and realizes Hakuryuu is waiting for him to agree. It would appear being emperor hasn’t yet set in for him. “That’s fine,” he says. “Of course. It would be my honor. But, Judar, how did you two get here?”

While Kouen has not been permitted anywhere near Hakuryuu for over a month, he does know that security around the emperor has tightened considerably. There’s no way they could have made it all the way over here without being stopped.

“Magic,” Judar says with a grin as he pulls a roll of fabric from somewhere within his robes. “Out the window! Then into the air and over here! Did you know there aren’t so many guards over here, Kouen.”

Kouen did know that. Kouen would also like it if their troublemaking magi wouldn’t bring their small emperor into the sky with no one else around. Maybe they didn’t go very high up, but Judar isn’t known for his caution.

Hakuryuu tugs on Judar’s sleeve, prompting the magi to say, “Ah, right, we should go. We’ll see you later, Kouen.” And with that, the both of them drop down from his bed.

There’s not really anything Kouen can say to stop them. Even if they do see each other again, it won’t do for them to be found meeting with him secretly like this.

Kouen lies back in bed with a new set of possibilities popping into his head, what happened during the fire, what Hakuyuu said, what it means, and why he felt it needed to be said. 

This is the last thing Prince Hakuyuu has entrusted him with, and he will not fail.


	3. Chapter 3

From the moment the council as a collective set eye on him, Kouen could tell they weren’t fans of the arrangement that’s been set up with His Majesty. They do not have the decency, or at the very least the expected political courtesy, to put on a façade of neutrality whenever he arrives to bring Hakuryuu to the study that’s been selected for them. They stare as he’s searched, trying to will something incriminating into being, and they stare over the emperor as he makes his way over to Kouen, as if it means something more than it does.

The exception is Gyokuen, who smiles and will sometimes greet him with a hug as she asks how he’s been. She said it’s a shame about his father, but the real shame is that they couldn’t see his treachery until it was too late. She said that she’s so pleased to see him supporting Hakuryuu the way he has. She said she’ll do what she can for him, although Kouen doesn’t actually know what she means by that.

Kouen knows she’s putting on airs, that in truth she must be grieving more than any of them, but sometimes the way her smile reaches her eyes is a little too convincing. Sometimes when she reaches down to give Hakuryuu a hug he pulls away from, Kouen could swear there’s an amused edge to her expression. 

Kouen strikes those thoughts from mind as soon as they form, however, because Gyokuen is their queen. That glimmer of doubt is too risky for someone in his position to linger on, but it arises every time he sees her, whenever Hakuryuu scurries from her side to his like he always does.

Hakuryuu crosses the room at a pace that fails to conceal his desire to leave. And until they’ve made it outdoors, he sticks especially close to Kouen. Close, but careful to not touch him in any way, to not let even the fabric of their robes brush. And once outside, he still remains closer to him than his guards.

Kouen cannot tell if this behavior is ordinary timidity, the result of trauma, or something else entirely. He doesn’t know if this is similar to how Hakuryuu was before or not. His eyes remain consciously forward, his arms stick to his sides; it is an unnatural way of moving for a little boy.

The study they use is large and sparsely decorated but elegant. Full of scrolls and books Kouen has never had access to before, but he’s not taken the time to look closely at any of them. He’s only permitted entrance when accompanied by His Majesty. That time is solely for Hakuryuu, whatever he wants, whatever he needs, although it is officially for tutoring. 

When they first started meeting, the guards would remain in the room with them, forming a tight perimeter as though Kouen would be foolish enough to make an attempt on the emperor’s life right there. They don’t anymore. No explanation given. Now they’re stationed outside, with the captain just inside the door to keep watch. 

Hakuryuu doesn’t talk to him. It’s made navigating what he’s already been taught particularly difficult. The tutors he had prior to the fire all perished in it. Mostly Kouen asks yes or no questions, does he know this, that, does he understand or would he like Kouen to go over it. 

No matter what Kouen does or says, no matter what the guards do or say, His Majesty never utters a sound. Kouen doesn’t know when he’ll speak, or if he will. From what he’s heard, this is how His Majesty is with everyone, which is honestly more worrying than it is relieving. He won’t to talk to his mother, his guards, the generals, the servants, pretty much everyone who isn’t Judar, and even there he’s silent if someone is close enough that they might hear. He’s been avoiding Hakuei as well. Apparently no one has addressed that.

Hakuryuu is their emperor, but he is also a child, a _damaged_ child. They need to be looking after him, yet no one seems to be making an effort to balance deference and authority. 

By doing nothing, they’re allowing this to worsen. 

What if His Majesty ceases speaking altogether, even to Judar?

What if this is only the first stage, and next is His Majesty locking himself away?

What if His Majesty is seeking their aid but doesn’t know how to articulate what he needs?

Losing another heir, another emperor, another piece of family, is a terrifying thought.

So at the end of their first week of tutoring, Kouen gathered the nerve to ask about Hakuryuu’s silence, figuring it was a good enough spot to start if he was going to try.

“Your Majesty, why do you not wish to speak?” he asked after the Hakuryuu didn’t give a response to the captain of his guard. As the words left his mouth, however, he questioned if it was accurate to say His Majesty wasn’t speaking because he didn’t want to. The image of Hakuryuu sitting in front of him, unable to bring himself to speak despite clearly wanting to came to mind.

Hakuryuu sat unresponsive, as if he hadn’t heard, but his fingers squeezed his calligraphy brush and he stared ahead.

Just as Kouen began to regret his honestly quite brazen decision and apologize, Hakuryuu lifted his brush to painstakingly write out in neat but childish script: _everyone is scary._

If Kouen had been expecting anything at all, it was certainly not that. 

The admission left him speechless. He didn’t know how to proceed from that, if he should. Meanwhile, Hakuryuu went back to copying the set of characters Kouen had provided him like nothing was odd about what he’d written, which was also concerning.

It wasn’t until Hakuryuu lightly pulled his sleeve so he’d look over his writing that he snapped out of it.

Kouen failed to smile—not that Hakuryuu noticed—told him he did a good job, and raised a hand to carefully pat his head before continuing the lesson.

The days leading up to their next session, Kouen’s thoughts are consumed by Hakuryuu’s few words. His mind wanders to them when he tries to focus on his own studies, while he’s gathering books and materials for future lessons, in the middle of conversations with Koumei, as he lies awake at night, constantly.

Everyone is scary.

When he looks at those words closely they begin to unravel. They don’t say that His Majesty believes he’s in danger or that he’s afraid in general. They don’t indicate if there’s something being done to cause this belief or if it’s something internal—some reaction to trauma that lacks a clear definition.

For all Kouen knows, Hakuryuu meant everyone is a stranger to him, and strangers are scary so he finds it difficult to speak to them.

But if that’s true, then why won’t he talk to his mother? Why would he volunteer the information to Kouen, a virtual stranger, in the first place?

Kouen realizes it must be absurd to obsess over the words of a child, even if that child is his emperor, but Hakuryuu shouldn’t have anything to fear. The people surrounding him have no higher priority than his safety, if not the council running things then the generals and guards certainly. He is what remains of their great emperor. No one wants to lose him; Kouen is not confident their country could withstand it.

Hakuryuu should feel secure and comfortable in his own home. There’s little Kouen can do to ensure that, but he can at the very least make himself accessible. He doesn’t want to disappoint either His Majesty or Prince Hakuyuu by failing to live up to this chance he’s been given.

But because Hakuryuu does not speak to him, and because his reactions have tended to be minimal so far, Kouen has a difficult time discerning how he’s doing in regards to gaining Hakuryuu’s trust. He has no idea if he’s passing whatever private test is being administered in the midst of this. He’s still not entirely sure how to treat him, either. Or rather, he’s not sure how much he’s allowed to treat him like Hakuryuu and not His Majesty.

There are multiple lines here. Worse, they’re all indistinct. Kouen has taken up an unfamiliar role that holds a level of authority over someone regardless of status. Hakuryuu has been bestowed an authority that no other can overlook. The reality of being emperor doesn’t seem to have hit him yet, though. He doesn’t always respond to _Your Majesty_. At times he shies away from it as though it’s a reproach. 

With Hakuryuu things must be taken slowly. Or perhaps they don’t, but Kouen thinks His Majesty appreciates the relaxed nature of their time together. Several days last week, like today, they accomplished little, and that’s fine. Hakuryuu sits with his chin resting on his crossed arms as they watch each other.

Hakuryuu wants to talk to him, but other than taking the first step towards that by approaching him he’s done little else. Kouen supposes that just being together is enough for him for the time being. Words aren’t always needed to judge someone; they just help it progress faster.

“Your Majesty, may I ask you a few questions?”

Unlike previous times, Hakuryuu’s lack of response comes off more like he’s waiting for Kouen to continue. When he doesn’t, Hakuryuu gives a nod so slight Kouen would’ve missed it had he blinked.

“Do you remember when we last met, and you told me you aren’t talking because everyone is scary?”

Again, Hakuryuu nods.

Kouen’s fist closes around his sleeve. It might not be so, but he feels he must be selective. Proceed as if each question will be the last allowed. “Have you always felt that way?”

Hakuryuu tilts his head until it’s resting on his arm. Eventually he shrugs, which Kouen has come to take as a mix of yes and no.

“Are you afraid right now?”

No.

“Will you be afraid when you leave here?”

No response, which doesn’t necessarily mean yes.

Kouen waits a few minutes before asking his next question, and Hakuryuu watches him intently. “Are you scared of me as well?”

Hakuryuu stares, then blinks, losing focus, like he never connected those two things together. He turns his face in, the beginning of a no, but then he lifts his head a little to look at Kouen fully. His mouth opens as if he intends to refute him with assurance, but no sound leaves. He withers, showing the most emotion since… since Kouen doesn’t when, before the fire probably, and it’s complete dejection. 

Automatically Kouen’s hand starts to reach across the table, but stops short of His Majesty when there’s a small, almost imperceptible flinch. “Your Majesty doesn’t have to talk if you’re not ready.” He lets his fingers creep through the space that separates them, pauses, and then covers Hakuryuu’s hand with his own. “Trying is enough. Wanting to is enough,” he says, and though he tries to prevent it his voice trembles.

He’s never been good at words. This is a time when he feels it might matter most. One of those pivotal times where the right thing keeps everything the same and the wrong thing breaks it down to nothing. Words can accomplish anything. They hold all the power in the world or none at all, depending entirely on who’s speaking and to whom. Kouen can see why Hakuryuu would be fearful.

Although His Majesty’s expression remains as unchanging as ever, his eyes wander like he’s not quite sure where to look. His hand twitches under Kouen’s, and then carefully rotates. The tips of his fingers poke Kouen’s palm before peeking out, and he gives Kouen a sort of bashful look that slowly gives way to the first smile Kouen’s ever seen from Hakuryuu. It’s small and looks like it takes more effort than it should, but it lights up his entire face.

Kouen’s other hand sneaks up and slides under Hakuryuu’s, so he’s effectively encircling his emperor’s tiny hand, although His Majesty could easily pull free if he desired. This isn’t the best position for this. Ideally he should be kneeling, but he doesn’t want to draw attention to them.

He takes a breath and lowers his head to say, quietly, as if it’s a secret that shouldn’t be heard by anyone else, “I will do everything in my power to protect you, Your Majesty.”

The moment Hakuryuu’s mouth dips into a frown Kouen realizes that was the wrong thing to say. In the instance after, when his heart starts to race, he realizes why, and panics. His face creases with remorse and he bends until his face is nearly at the table, level with His Majesty’s because if he goes any lower his voice will hit the wood.

He holds His Majesty’s hand firm and says, “Unless Your Majesty commands it, I will not go anywhere.”

Nothing is done for a moment. Then His Majesty is pulling his hand free to grab his brush and parchment. He makes a few lines, scribbles them out, and with concentration writes out a single word.

_Why_

That is not something that should require explanation, but Kouen speaks before he even realizes he already has an answer. “Because you are my emperor, and I have already failed you once.”

Hakuryuu blinks at him, caught off-guard, and on his next blink tears are spilling down his cheeks and he’s wiping at them with his sleeves. His sobbing is soft but fills the room. Kouen has no idea what to do.

He doesn’t have to do anything it turns out, because guard at the door quickly rushes over as soon as he notices His Majesty’s distress. He spares Kouen a suspicious glare before he kneels next to His Majesty and vainly tries to ascertain what’s wrong, what’s upset him, did Kouen do something or is he just sad? It’s fine. Everything is okay.

The guard doesn’t touch His Majesty. When he gets too close he’s waved off with a single arm accompanied by a whimper while the other arm is used to hide his face.

They share pained looks as their emperor, who is so young and ultimately alone, suffers.

Before long Hakuryuu quiets. He takes shuddering breaths, trying to take control. After a few large gasps he succeeds. The sobbing is replaced with sniffling, and Hakuryuu presses his sleeves to his red face one last time before putting his hands flat on the table.

The guard begins to ask if there’s anything he needs, anything at all, if he’d like to leave now, his lesson can be done it's fine, but Hakuryuu draws away from him and he returns to his station with a sigh.

His Majesty does not look at Kouen as he rearranges the notes and scrolls in front of him. He scans them over several times. Finally he sets a short story in front of him and pushes it towards Kouen so that he’ll explain it. He pushes it closer when Kouen does not do so.

It looks like he hasn’t failed yet.

“Okay, Your Majesty.”

The next time His Majesty cries, Kouen swears to make an effort to soothe him. Although he may regret it, he won’t allow Hakuryuu to push him away in his time of anguish. 

Because who will be there for him otherwise?


	4. Chapter 4

Three months and a week after his imprisonment, it is announced that Ren Koutoku has been found guilty of treason and will executed. 

Details are sparse, as expected of a proclamation given to the public. Ren Koutoku is guilty. He conspired with several unknown individuals to assassinate the imperial family, succeeding in murdering his brother the emperor and two imperial princes. The public execution will be held in a month. 

There is no information on his motives or those he could have been working with. Nothing on whether there are more traitors threaded throughout Kou or unknown rebels scattered in the surrounding area that must be pursued. How long this was in planning and how he and his accomplices never raised suspicion once is not addressed. 

No one can tell if the peace they fought and bled for is cracking, if war is already dawning on them.

Because Koutoku is his father, Kouen expected to be called on for a private meeting so the nature of his father’s crimes—as well as the fate of he and his siblings’—could be elaborated on. While he is met with, not much is offered beyond what’s already been revealed. There is the assurance that neither he nor his siblings will share his father’s fate and not much else.

Implied warnings to mind his place are given, which Kouen finds superfluous despite understanding the necessity of caution in times like these. He feels it is obvious—and has always been obvious—that his loyalty is to His Majesty first and foremost, not to his father. That has not changed with Hakuryuu on the throne. He has always intended to be as useful to him as he was to his father and brothers. He intends to do better. If necessary, he would give up his life to ensure His Majesty’s safety and survival. They know that without needing him to say it.

The whole meeting feels like a tedious political show with a purpose he can’t quite decipher. Kouen is invaluable to Kou. Gyokuen in particular has been very encouraging of his dungeon conquests and the strength they bring Kou. Disposing of him like it’s nothing would be foolhardy, but it is apparently too simple to have his loyalty without attaching a few strings.

Kouen doesn’t ask questions. All he does is listen, bow, and thank them for their gratitude before he’s finally excused.

The news of his father’s sentencing spreads through the palace as an undercurrent. They swell in the days leading up to the actual announcement and overflow from there. From the moment he was imprisoned seemingly everyone decided he was guilty, but confirmation gives it life, and turns some of the more detailed rumors into potential theories of what happened.

As rumors always do, they range from absolutely ludicrous to worryingly sensible. But thankfully, they are too focused on his father to pay much attention to his siblings or what will become of them now.

The rumors die down the instant someone believes His Majesty could be anywhere near.

His Majesty knows, of course. He must. But how he’s taken the confirmation of his uncle’s guilt is unknown. Additionally, any gossip regarding the matter is vague at best. Things have not settled nearly enough for anyone to risk a frivolous comment being construed as treasonous.

In the week following the announcement, His Majesty is seen less than usual. Which, considering the low frequency of his appearances and how difficult it can be to see him amidst his guards anyway, is not especially noticeable. For Kouen, more of note is that their tutoring sessions are called off without prior notice.

Kouen waits in the study for nearly a half hour before he gathers the nerve to leave and follows a string of guards until one can provide him reliable information.

When he attempts to schedule an audience with His Majesty he’s turned away as soon as the words leave his mouth. But then, no one has been permitted to meet with the emperor since his coronation, since he woke up from his two month long coma even. Of course Kouen would not be an exception now.

This is the safest place His Majesty can be. Or it should be. But look at what little good their tightened security did Prince Hakuyuu and Prince Hakuren. And they were hardened warriors.

He wonders if seeking out Princess Hakuei to ask how she and her brother are faring is too inappropriate to consider more than in passing.

It most likely is, but he still finds himself frequenting the areas she’s fond of on the chance their paths may cross.

A few times they do. The first couple times the princess’s attendants rush her away, but the third time they come across each other she pulls away from them despite their pleas and has them stay back while she approaches Kouen.

Standing a short distance away from him, she gives a small smile and says, “We haven’t had a chance to speak in some time now, Kouen.”

It has been long. Months. Since the funeral they’ve only caught glimpses of each other, quick greetings, eye contact that’s always broken too soon. They didn’t talk at Hakuryuu’s coronation, either.

His mouth is suddenly too dry, but he works out, “My apologies, Your Highness,” and then realizes he ought to get to one knee, but as he does so Hakuei gently shakes her head and gestures that he stand up.

“There’s no need for that. Not today.” Then she inclines her head and walks to the nearby courtyard and the gazebo within it.

At first, Kouen stays in his frozen almost-bow, abashed as Hakuei’s attendants watch him and whisper to each other behind their hands. Then he straightens and follows after her like the dutiful retainer he is, but that doesn’t dismiss the burning in his cheeks.

“You look well,” is the first thing Hakuei says when he takes a seat opposite her.

He nods a little clumsily. “You as well, Your Highness.”

Hakuei is a little taller than she was when they last met. Her hair is styled differently, although Kouen can’t identify what’s different, just that it is. The air around her has always been elegantly mature, but it has gained a somber quality to it. And though her smile reaches her eyes, it’s not as wide as it once was, and lacks the old glimmer that made it near infectious, similar to Prince Hakuren’s. And Kouen has to look away before he allows that thought to stray too far.

They make small talk for a while, catching up on how their lives have found a new pattern of normal that’s sometimes eerily similar to the old. She asks about his siblings and expresses her condolences for their situation.

When she leaves the opening for him to ask about Hakuryuu like she knows he wants to, he can’t bring himself to do so.

In the resulting silence, Hakuei takes a breath, nods to his sheathe—or more specifically the charm dangling from the sword Hakuyuu gifted him. “I never did congratulate you. So,” her voice weakens and she coughs as she composes herself. “Congratulations, Kouen. Two metal vessels is an amazing accomplishment.” She pauses again. “You make Kou proud.”

She means nothing by it, but guilt stabs him like it’s an accusation for a crime he can no longer evade.

Hakuei wonders as he does—as maybe they all do.

Kouen swallows. “Your Highness, I am sorry that I was unable to protect them. It was my duty, and I failed.” His eyes sting but he refuses to turn away from her.

And because he does not turn away, neither does she. She sniffs and dabs at the corners of her eyes. “There’s nothing you could have done.”

“I didn’t have to go. I could have waited. I didn’t. There was… I should have been there. If not for them, then for you, and for Hakuryuu. But I…”

Hakuei gets up and moves to sit beside him. She takes his hand in both of hers. Looking up into his face she says, “You’re doing what you can now, though, aren’t you?”

Kouen stares at her, nods numbly before belatedly answering, “Yes, Your Highness. I am doing my best for the both of you.”

Hakuei rests her forehead against Kouen’s upper arm. She nods. “I’m grateful. You’re tutoring Hakuryuu now, are you not? He’s been in higher spirits recently.” She looks up at him with a happier smile. “I’ve actually gotten to see him more thanks to that.”

“You weren’t seeing him much, correct?”

Hakuei hums. “When he saw me he’d start to cry and not come close, and flinch if I approached him. And he still cries now, but. But he lets me comfort him. At least a little. So. Thank you, Kouen.”

Blushing, Kouen says. “That’s really not necessary. It’s an honor to be of service to you. The both of you.”

“Hush and accept my thanks properly. Let’s try that again. Thank you, Kouen. Really.” She squeezes his hand.

“You’re welcome, Your Highness.”

They sit in companionable silence until Kouen finds himself asking what he’s meant to ask all along. “Is your brother okay? Since the sentencing, I mean. If you’ve seen him.”

“I think he is. He hasn’t been any worse. From what I’ve seen, that is. But he always tries so hard to be strong in front of me. Like them.”

Because he doesn’t know what to say and wants to avoid prying, Kouen says, “I won’t disappoint you.”

“I know. You always do your best. Don’t you?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Not long after that Hakuei is called for and she apologizes to him, saying that she’d stay longer but she has an etiquette lesson she’s already going to be late to, and apparently etiquette is one of the worse lessons to receive a lecture for being late.

Talking with Hakuei fills Kouen with a mix of relief and exhaustion. It’s good to talk with her again, even if things are not as they used to be. And although he’s been given reassurance that His Majesty is doing well, Kouen still wants to see for himself.

Koumei suggests he sneak into His Majesty’s quarters if he’s so desperate, and at Kouen’s incredulous stare he shrugs, saying if they won’t let him see His Majesty, the only options he really has is to wait it out or get to His Majesty before the guards catch him. It’s not like they can punish Kouen if it goes against His Majesty’s wishes, right?

Kouen’s not confident of that, but it’s assuming he’d make it to Hakuryuu in the first place. He’s not familiar enough with the layout of the emperor’s quarters to make it a short trip. Not to mention the guards that must be patrolling the halls and stationed at His Majesty’s door. The real question is if they’d inform His Majesty or deal with him silently.

“Do you think I could make it to him?” Kouen asks, already knowing the answer he’ll receive.

Koumei shrugs again. “Probably not.”

Kouen wants to kick him. He is going to kick him. “You’re not helpful.”

“What were you expecting? Hakuryuu is the emperor. And a child. You’re not going to have access to him unless they allow it. And why would they? Our father was part of a conspiracy, En.”

“I know that. But it’s not like we didn’t see this coming, and they were already letting me near him. So. Why not now?”

“Who knows. Maybe Hakuryuu doesn’t want to see you.”

“That’s not it.”

“No?” Koumei stares at him, and sighs at his resolve. “What about Seishuu?”

Kouen frowns. “What about him?”

“He sees Hakuryuu, doesn’t he? If it’s so important you see His Majesty sooner rather than later, then why not see if he can bring you along?”

“What?”

“Big Brother, you normally aren’t this slow. Is everything okay?”

Kouen decides a punch at almost full strength is the best choice. After delivering it he receives a glare, and glares right back. “Just tell me.”

“Since you apparently don’t know, Seishuu supervises when Seishun plays with His Majesty sometimes. He did that before too, didn’t he? But if you aren’t being allowed near His Majesty right now, maybe your household isn’t either.”

Kouen tracks down Seishuu and has a talk with him where it’s confirmed he’s been seeing His Majesty—though not speaking with him—and has been since Koutoku’s sentencing was made public as well. Because he doesn’t try getting close to His Majesty, it’s decided that the best course of action is to have Seishun deliver a note to His Majesty.

Kouen writes several letters. The first two are too long, and the third too complex. The fourth sounds too concerned when he has no reason to be.

The fifth comes out better. In short sentences it states simply that he hopes His Majesty is well, and that, if he ever needs him or just wants to see him, all he has to do is ask.


	5. Chapter 5

Sometimes Kouen dreams he could have saved them.

To punish him for his indulgence, and for his arrogance, the dreams are always bittersweet. Salvation turns to flames so potent and severe Astaroth cannot tame them, cannot temper them, and all Kouen can do is watch the destruction spread in stupefied silence. Relief crumbles into ash on the imperial families’ tongues. His emperor fades, his princes melt, and so little is left behind they might as well not have been there at all. 

All that remains is Kouen, the echo of their unfulfilled ambitions, and smoldering wreckage pointing to Kouen, making him look like the perpetrator he feels he could be.

There is nothing he could have done, but part of him needs to believe otherwise no matter how much it hurts. Because what has been the point of conquering these dungeons if their alleged power is not enough to protect what matters most?

He was reborn in the blood and horror of war. He was praised as powerful and capable, the pride of Kou who would be an essential piece in their triumph. And he was.

He is a weapon, and the dungeons with their magic and ancient untold tales were supposed to hone him further, make him evermore invaluable. They would make it possible for him to ensure Kou’s future.

But he is a weapon whose master is no longer part of this world; with no one to wield him his power is meaningless. It meanders through impossible could-have-beens an aching reminder of his failure.

Nothing symbolizes that more than the sword in his hands, which feels so much heavier now than when he first held it in his hands. Yet whenever he cannot sleep, when nightmares become a downpour of poison tipped arrows, he finds himself getting out of bed, finding where it rests, and taking it into his hands as though it is a lifeline leading directly to his lost princes.

If only…

But if it was, what would he say even? Apologize for letting them down and letting them die, and promise to do what he can for the family they have left behind. There is only so much he can do, but he will do whatever he can to stay by their sides, the way he should have with them.

To think how proud he was to return home and show Prince Hakuyuu where that age-old powerful djinn chose to reside…

The door to his room slides open. The sound is so slight it can only be heard thanks to the stillness of the night. Normally Kouen would shift into alert, but the most he can do is tense and bring both hands to the sword’s grip. Lack of sleep has him lethargic. Plus, he’s just been… tired for weeks now.

The unmistakably large silhouette of Kokuton steps into the room. The lantern in his hand is held too low to reach his face.

“Young Master,” Kokuton greets with a tone of surprise, relieved he doesn’t have to wake him but also concerned to find him this way. With a shallow bow he says, “I am sorry to disturb you.”

Kouen’s palms are warm. “Did something happen?” Though he realizes that is unlikely, his heart still starts to race.

Kokuton takes a long breath. After a few moments, he steps aside. In the dark Kouen can just barely make out the outline of a child he initially believes is Judar, who has made dropping by Kouen’s room something of a habit ever since he started going around proclaiming Kouen was going to be his king. But the figure is too small—and too quiet besides—to be their young priest and magi. Kouha’s face flashes into his mind, his sisters’, too, though each is discarded after short seconds of consideration. None of his siblings other than Koumei have ever come to his room in this way. He’s not certain any of them would, either.

The small silhouette looks up to Kokuton, and his loyal retainer gives an encouraging nod. Then inclines his head toward Kouen, and an accompanying glance, seeking him to give encouragement as well.

“What is it?” Kouen asks, focusing on the child beside Kokuton.

Kouen’s throat tightens when His Majesty takes meek steps forward into the lantern’s light. His messy hair covers half his face but the pink scar still pokes out onto the other cheek. The robe covering him is too thin for the minor chill in the air and has been tied together with a clumsy hand. It leaves his still bandaged collarbones and neck exposed.

“Young Master, His Majesty sought you out at this late hour. Can you spare a moment?”

He hesitates, and does so for so long shame twists up his body to settle heavily on his shoulders. “Of course.”

His Majesty keeps hold of Kokuton’s sleeve as he’s escorted to Kouen’s bed. Then Kokuton picks him up and places him on the bed across from Kouen. He shares a few quiet words with His Majesty, and once he gets a nod of understanding he says to Kouen, “I will be just outside, Young Master, if you need anything.”

With the two of them now alone, Kouen is at more of a loss than he anticipated. He rubs the hilt of Prince Hakuyuu’s sword for strength. In spite of the increasing comfort between them, His Majesty has yet to speak a single word to him. That Hakuryuu looks at him so expectantly does not help matters.

“Where,” he starts, and then changes is mind. “Why is Judar not with you?”

His Majesty shrugs easily, with indifference, as if it doesn’t matter that the one who’s been speaking for him is nowhere to be found when he wants to communicate. The robe slips off one shoulder, revealing more pink scars and bandages, but His Majesty doesn’t fix it and Kouen has to resist the urge to do it for him. Seeing His Majesty in such a state is inappropriate, but touching him in such a way without permission would be more inappropriate.

Silence drags on. Although Kouen has doubts, he asks, “Is something the matter?”

Again, His Majesty shrugs, and Kouen is not in the mood to play guessing games with him. Perhaps he cannot sleep and just wants some company.

Kouen lays his sword between the two of them. “Do you recognize this sword, Your Majesty?”

Hakuryuu looks at the sword for a minute. His eyes search down the blade, and catch at the intricate designs on the hilt, at the gem inlaid at the center. With a quivering lip he peeks at Kouen through hair. Tentatively, his had reaches out, ultimately hovering over the gem, and Kouen lifts the sword to offer it for His Majesty’s touch. 

Hakuryuu pats the hilt and wrap around it experimentally. His fingers stroke the patterns on the hilt. Kouen wonders if he has other physical reminders of them. He must, somewhere. Not everything burned. 

“His Highness Prince Hakuyuu gifted his sword to me,” Kouen says, earning Hakuryuu’s attention. “Before I left for the dungeon all those months ago, this is how His Highness wished me good fortune and a safe journey. It… It is my most prized possession, Your Majesty.”

His Majesty gives no indication that he’s taking in what’s being said, but Kouen knows he is. His finger slides over the red gem and up the flat of the blade, to the eight-pointed star inscribed on the metal. He traces the circle, the lines that make the star, and looks at Kouen in question.

Kouen puts his finger beside Hakuryuu’s on the cool metal. “This is where the djinn sleeps, Your Majesty. Astaroth is his name, a djinn of fire. It is with his power, and this sword that holds the will of your brothers and father, that I will keep you, your sister, and your mother safe.” He falters, and for that reason summons the will to speak again. “So you do not have to be afraid. Not when you are with me. Or my household. You felt safe with Kokuton, didn’t you?”

Hakuryuu thinks about that for a long time. His body slopes down to the bed and he stretches, which brings his face too close to the blade’s edge for Kouen’s liking. Finally, after resting his hand back on the sword’s hilt, he nods, and Kouen nods back.

“Would you like to sleep here?”

Another nod, and he pulls his knees to his chest to curl up on the bed.

Since at the foot of the bed, deprived of pillows and proper blankets, is apparently where His Majesty has decided to make himself comfortable, Kouen gets up to find him both. Within a few steps he’s halted by a weak noise of protest. At first he is convinced it’s a figment of his imagination, or some sound off in the distance that managed to make its way here, but when he looks back, His Majesty is pressing his chin to the bed and staring at him with morose eyes that request he not go.

He turns back to the bed and kneels. “I am not going anywhere. Do you not want a blanket, Your Majesty?”

After considering that, Hakuryuu takes a fistful of the blanket under him and pulls it over and under him as he rolls.

“Ah. So Your Majesty already has one. If it pleases Your Majesty, may I get a blanket for myself as well?”

He’s met with an unsettling blank stare he thinks isn’t going to go away before finally given a small nod of approval. However, this time when Kouen moves to grab another blanket, he walks backwards and keeps an eye on Hakuryuu to assure him that he is indeed not going anywhere.

Then, when he goes to retrieve the sword Hakuryuu’s hand closes around it. Allowing His Majesty to sleep next to a weapon is not advisable. But neither does he have the heart to remove from his emperor something that reminds him of his family. So it stays where it is.

Kouen wraps the blanket around his shoulders and makes himself comfortable across from Hakuryuu. He sets one pillow above Hakuryuu’s head and hugs another to his chest. His Majesty isn’t trying to sleep. Kouen isn’t either.

Their hands lie on either side of the hilt, and Hakuryuu occasionally reaches out to poke Kouen’s fingers. He gets the sense that Hakuryuu is waiting for something, but Kouen cannot fathom what that may be.

Kouen takes a deep breath. “Would Your Majesty like to hear a story?” At the very least, he figures he can fill the silence until His Majesty manages to sleep. That much he can do.

Hakuryuu only looks at him, and in the midst of indecision and unknowing, Kouen launches into a tale from his own childhood. One of the stories his mother would tell he and Koumei on lonely nights that he hadn’t realized he still knew. One of the tales he’d thought he’d forgotten and could never find no matter how many scrolls or books he searched.

That night Kouen does not sleep. As morning light spills further across his bedroom an idea forms, as well as the determination to see it through.

First, he confirms the idea with His Majesty, and then puts in a request to have an audience with the queen regent.

A response comes after nearly a week. From there it’s several more days before he’s given a date and time.

Unexpectedly, it’s just the two of them in a courtyard without any guards in sight. Her Majesty greets him warmly and asks how he’s been. They catch up some, with her asking how Hakuryuu’s studies have gone and if they’ve grown comfortable with each other, which Kouen confirms.

Once their conversation dwindles he has a hard time finding the right opening, but Her Majesty is patient with him. “Your Majesty,” he says firmly, steeling himself for whatever her response might be, “I would like one of my household to head His Majesty’s guard.”

Gyokuen looks into her teacup. Her fingers are still on the rim, and lift it to her lips for a sip. “Oh?” she says, not seeming to pay him or the proposition much mind. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Kouen. Why not takeover that position yourself, then?”

Probably looking quite the fool, Kouen sits there stunned. All the benefits and arguments Koumei helped him craft for the past week roll back down his throat. The worry that had been prickling his skin slips to the ground, leaving him strangely chilled.

He doesn’t know what to say or what this means. He should be relieved but he’s not.

“Do you not think you are up to the task?” Gyokuen asks.

Kouen swallows and struggles to find a response. Taking over the position himself, he can’t imagine many would accept that at this time or anytime in the near future. Not that a member of his household is that much better, but it could at least be rationalized.

He takes a breath and tries to sort through his discussions with Koumei. “I was thinking someone like Kokuton or Shou would be appropriate. They both have more experience than I do.”

“With your emperor, you do not think your own hands would be best?”

“As I am already handling His Majesty’s studies, I thought surrounding him with those who can offer him guidance should he seek it would be a better option.”

“And the ones best suited for this are those loyal to you.” Something about the way she doesn’t make that a question unnerves him, but he strives to ignore it.

Kouen bows his head. “I apologize, Your Majesty. That was not my intention.” There’s more he wants to say, but he bites his tongue lest the wrong thing comes out.

“What was your intention?”

“I want His Majesty to be safe. I meant no disrespect, and am certain the soldiers chosen for His Majesty’s guard are more than capable.”

“But?”

When he hazards a look up he sees Her Majesty smiling at him; it fails to put him much at ease. “But… I am fostering trust in His Majesty. I want him to know it is okay for that trust to extend beyond me, to my household, and others too, of course. I am sorry, but I am unsure how else to achieve this.”

Smile still in place, Her Majesty is now holding up her hand. “I understand, and I appreciate all you’re doing for Hakuryuu. It’s good he has reliable, loyal soldiers like yourself supporting him.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“I cannot promise anything, but you have been heard, and I will see what can be done. Thank you, Kouen.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are at the ending chapter. Short to match the first.
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me.
> 
> I fully intend to write more of this AU/series, but I am not sure when I will. I hope you will enjoy them too.
> 
> If you have questions about anything, please feel free to send them my way.

The days leading up to Koutoku’s execution are wracked with merciless storms the likes of which Kouen has not seen in years. A torrential downpour that is indistinguishable from hail when it pelts any surface. The noise is deafening. Combined with the deeply sodden ground and the perpetual grey that renders it difficult to see more than an arm’s length away, postponing numerous meetings and audiences becomes unavoidable.

The storms are so persistently bad no one risks convening when opportunity arises. Nor does anyone seek out His Majesty to chide him for absconding with Judar, and Seishun as well, to visit Kouen in his quarters for long hours every day. Kouen, for his part, is uncertain when he became someone children were so fond of.

The day of execution nears, and the downpour only intensifies. Tensions rise and the kids become more reluctant than they already were to leave him to himself. They do their best to follow him from room to room; they ask innumerable questions, many of which he cannot answer. Judar prods at the imperturbable Koumei when he stops by to keep the peace if Kouen has an obligation that can’t be ignored. His Majesty keeps huddled beneath blankets with several toys, trinkets, and scrolls laid out to hold his interest.

Rain continues to fall. Momentary respites are rewarded with a fall harder than before. It is as if the gods mean to protest the necessary death to come. No one says it, but plenty think it, plain on their faces. It’s unsettling when his guilt is certain. While just how culpable he is remains unclear, he was involved, and his stubborn refusal to cooperate furthers his guilt.

Postponing the execution would not be uncalled for. Yet no one has suggested it, as if they are all expecting someone else to do so.

For a criminal of Koutoku’s caliber, whose crimes are the gravest atrocities to befall Kou since the war, the wait has already been too long. Kou’s citizens are impatient for justice. The imperial family needs justice. Months later and they continue to grieve openly for their lost emperor, their princes, and the future they promised. Until justice has been dispensed, no one can heal.

The day arrives, and while the rain has settled to near manageable levels it refuses to quell completely. Miniature ponds fill the muddy ground, the sky remains a stark grey, and thunder cracks far in the distance. Crowds trickle in with the rising sun, heedless of the weather. More arrive later to watch the preparations and gossip.

By noon, sunshine pierces through the spattering of grey clouds that squeeze out whatever water remains and the square is filled beyond capacity. People have traveled to the capital from all over Kou to attend and grieve with the rest of them. Despite the crowd’s density, the noise is fairly muted and quiets further as the hour approaches.

When total silence is reached, their heads rise in near unison to where the queen regent has finally made her appearance. From where Kouen stands he cannot spot if His Majesty is with her.

Koutoku is led out, then, surrounded by guards that have little interest in shielding him from the scornful words and debris hurled his way. He’s thinner than when Kouen saw him months ago, though not as thin as one would expect from how haggard and pallid his face has become. His dirty, tattered robe sags. His thick beard has lost volume, but is longer than ever and matted enough to look like a rodent’s nest. The lack of upkeep has made its red color faded.

There’s a slight limp to his gait and his posture is rigid. The whole walk, Koutoku never moves his weary glare from the balcony. Even when he’s led up the stairs and made to kneel before the crowd and executioner, his keeps his head angled to see the balcony through his stringy hair.

Kouen watches with strained breath and his hands tight on Koumei’s shoulders. This is something he has been steeling himself for since Koutoku’s guilt was announced, but somehow his nerves are still shot. This is not horror, but it is still his father. His father, who raised him and would pat his head when he did well, and did not discourage his academic pursuits, his already sickly father, whose heart failed to mend itself back together after the death of their mother.

This traitorous and shameful end that mars them all is not one Kouen anticipated.

The executioner’s blade rises into the air, sun glinting bright off the metal.

Kouen takes a deep breath, holds it, and squeezes his brother’s shoulders.

The blade falls, splitting air and slicing through flesh to clang on the wooden platform. 

The crowd cheers, but Kouen doesn’t breathe—he can’t.

There’s not any relief, and he’s not sure why he thought there would be.


End file.
